


Curiosity

by StoryQueen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Action, Attempted Murder, Blood, Confused Harry, Evil Zayn, Gore, Hostage Louis, Hostage Niall, Hostage Situations, Kidnapping, Killing, M/M, More awesome than Prussia's pants!, Nice Liam, Prostitution, Road Trip, Sex, Suicide Attempt, Violence, awesomeness, double suicide, hostage, mafia, mention of BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 11:27:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1646981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoryQueen/pseuds/StoryQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>”Zayn sent me.”<br/>"What does he want with me?"<br/>"He wants you to deliver something special for him." </p>
<p>Or the one where Harry has to take a ‘package’ to France, but the package is Louis, and he’s taking Louis to his death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curiosity

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like this! I got the idea from a prompt from fanficy-prompts.tumblr, and I kind of remember seeing clips of a film a little bit like this, so sorry if it sounds like that film… Look out for the Tangled references, because I couldn’t help but put some Disney references in there! Don’t forget to send in your prompts! Love forever x

It was eleven at night, and most of the room was dark. Harry would have turned the light on, if not for Niall wanting to watched Saw in complete darkness. The changing lightness of the TV was annoying Harry as he sat at the adjoined kitchen breakfast table, a pen in his hand, his reading glasses on his face, and a pile of paper work below his nose.

Harry tapped his pen thoughtfully, staring blankly as the word began to twist around and merge into each other. He knew he should be wearing his green irlens glasses, but he felt self-conscience with them on after Niall had commented that he looked like John Lennon. He was straining his eyes in the dark, and it didn't help that he was tired. He new job wasn't as nice as some of his other jobs. Though, he can't complain; there was one job he didn't want to return to.

Harry had never been someone who could get a good job. He had the appearance and the attitude, but somehow he was always outdone by someone else. He had worked in McDonalds for some time, and then did some secret shopping just to get some extra cash. He got a real job after that, working at a bakery, but he got fired for nicking a cake because he was hungry. A few more odd jobs came about, and for some time he was a handy man, washing cars and painting walls to earn some money.

It was a year ago this week that Harry had met Zayn. It started as a quick window cleaning job and led to the horror Harry can never forget.

Harry shuddered quickly, looking up from the swirling black and white words. He noticed the movie was silent, and Niall walked past him into the kitchen area of their two bedroomed flat.

"You alright?" Niall asked, opening the cupboard and taking out some ready made popcorn.

Harry nodded, then looked back down at his work.

"You've been doing that assignment for the past six hours. Does uni work really take that long?"

Harry rubbed his eyes, wanting to ignore Niall. After everything that had happened, Harry had decided to start uni, taking an online course so he could at least get a proper job with a qualification. Niall didn't care about real jobs. He was fine with what they were both doing.

"I've not been that focused," Harry truthfully said as he began to stand up. It was about time he got to bed. Niall could sit around on his fat arse all night as far as he cared, but he just wanted some sleep.

Harry glanced at the calender as he passed the fridge, and another cold chill ran down his spine.

June 17.

It was one year today.

Niall must have noticed something and patted Harry on the back as he walked past him back to the movie. "You get to bed, Harry. Tomorrow night is Monday; you're turn to work."

Niall didn't need to remind him. Ten months into his job, and he was hating it as much as he did when he started. It wasn't his fault he got into this line of work. After what Zayn had put him through, he needed access to money quick, and after he met Niall down at some dodgy club, he knew this was the only way. He didn't know much to begin with; about prostitution. Niall had taught him, and he taught him well, at least, that's the impression Harry gets from his clients.

Harry watched as Niall sat down carefully on the sofa, and it reminded him of last night. Saturday was Niall's night on the job. (Switching every other night made it safer so one was free to save the other if anything bad happened.) Niall had got it hard- literally- and Harry remained himself of the blood he had to scrub of Niall while he cried in the shower.

Harry had seen worse blood in his life.

A year ago today.

He closed the door softly behind him, hearing as the bolt secured the door shut. Nobody could get in. He walked over to his window, picking up the key that lay on his desk on his way there, and locked the window too. He threw the key back onto the table and lay on his bed.

He shut his eyes straight away, relief washing over his as his eyes praised the rest they earned. Harry sighed, relaxing his shoulders further into the duvet below him. He knew he had to take his day clothes off, and probably his shoes as well, but he was too tired to do that. He'd probably regret it in the morning when he had lines running down his legs from the folded jeans digging into his in the night, but he didn't care right now. He let sleep wash over him, dragging his further down into the darkness.

\---

Glass shattered. That's what woke Harry. He opened his eyes and resisted the urge to sit bolt upright. He listened for a second, and at first he couldn't hear anything. The electricity was buzzing, and the pipes were humming, but that was it.

He tried to convince himself it was nothing, that maybe it was just someone breaking a car window outside. But his sleepy head started thinking. What if someone was robbing a car? What if it was his car?

He reluctantly swung his legs over the edge of the bed and plodded over to the window, pulling the curtains back ever so slightly to get a look at the street light illuminated alley where his car was parked. It was fine, and after a quick glance, so was every other car on the street.

Harry hummed to himself, shrugging it off. It was probably someone in another flat dropping a glass vase, or something of the sorts.

He sat back on the edge of his bed, and was about to tuck his cold legs under the warm duvet when he heard a footstep crunching over broken glass. He took note of the distance of the sound, and he didn't need much more convincing that there was an intruder in his flat. It could of been Niall, for all he knew, but that didn' stop him from grabbing his baseball bat from behind the door and slowly unlocking his door, bat ready to swing.

The living area was dark, the thick curtains now allowing any light to shine through the balcony doors. Harry walked slowly, every step turning his body slightly so that he was circle stepping. It was quiet again, except for the crunching of glass beneath Harry's still shoed feet. He looked down and quickly followed the trail of crystals to where the balcony door stood- or at least, use to stand. Harry quickly worried about how on Earth he and Niall were going to pay for that, but then remembered the situation in hand. By then, it was almost too late.

The bat was whipped from his hand, and in a desperate attempt to both simultaneously grab it back and swing it, his body turned and he tripped over his own feet, and he heavily landed on the small pieces of glass. He yelped, and tried to get up, only to cut his hand on more glass.

Harry looked up quickly, seeing a dark figure looming over him. He wanted to scramble away, but realised his arse would bleed more than Niall's yesterday if he tried. He stared up in horror was the figure threw his bat behind him, and reached out towards him.

Harry was sure this person was going to hit him, but a gentle hand touched him, and he found himself being pulled up, and with a quick swipe over his arse as the person knocked off the small pieces of glass, Harry was okay.

"Are you okay?" The voice was not Niall's Irish one, but Harry had figured that this person wasn't Niall. He was too strong to be his small twink friend.

Harry was still wary of this stranger. He could be an ex-client back for more. He could be a burglar. He could be part of the bloody government for all he knew.

"I'm fine," he said dryly, running a hand over his slightly bleeding butt cheeks, but then turned harsher. "What the fuck are you doing in my house?"

What was said next both simultaneously shocked and terrified Harry, so much so Harry thought he was about to fall back onto the glass coated floor. His head spun, his stomach churned, and his eyes burned. He'd rather face a fate before the Slender Man than hear those words again.

"Zayn sent me."

The man obviously say Harry's reaction, and quickly grabbed Harry's arm, leading his over to the sofa. They sat down, and everything was silent before Harry came to his wits.

"Zayn?"

The man nodded. Harry was silent another moment before burying his face into his hands. He could feel the tears welling in his eyes, and the vomit about to pour out of his mouth to join the crystals that scattered around the room. He felt like an innocent man who was just told we was to be hung for murder.

"What does he want with me?" His voice was shaking, like his hands, and he quickly licked his drying lips.

The man placed a hand on his knee. "He wants you to deliver something special for him." The man moved closer, changing his hand from Harry's knee to his shoulder blade. "He says that you are the best one for the job."

Harry looked up from behind his hands. It was still dark, and he still couldn't see the man's face. He wanted to. He wanted to know who the Devil was hiring nowadays.

The man lent over to the other side of the sofa, quickly pulling a brief case over and placing it on his knees. He opened it with a quick click, the metal rimming glinting in the dim light, and Harry could smell the content before he saw it. He knew it was pink and cream, paper thin and hot off the press, large bulks of the stuff.

Money. Wads of fifty-pound notes all piled up, waiting to be spent. Harry wanted to grin, but he realised that to get the money, he'd have to work for Zayn.

That bastard.

Harry pushed the briefcase away. "I don't want his filthy money."

The man sighed, closing the case. "I'm sure that Zayn could persuade you in other means."

It was in this moment that Harry realised that Niall was missing in all of this. He had not came out of his room when the glass was smashed. He had not awoke to the voices discussing business. Harry clenched his fists, digging his finger nails into his palms.

"Where is he?"

The man gave a quick chuckle, raising from his seat. "My associate, Agent J has taken your friend away from here." He slowly paced over to the balcony, carefully pulling back the thick curtains. The stream of light that entered haloed around the man's face. Harry got a good look at him. He was young, early twenties at most, with brunette hair, short at the sides, quiffed at the front, with styled stubble gracing his chin and cheeks. His brown eyes glowed at Harry, and after catching his eye, he turned away, the light now glowing over the top of his hair.

"And I suggest, if you want him to be untouched, you do as Zayn wants. I'm sure that he's use to being touched, but I'm sure this early after his injury the other night, he'll probably won't like it."

He took a step out, still holding the curtains. "Everything you need is in your car. The sooner you leave, the better."

Harry thought that was the last of it, that this man was going to walk away and leave him stood there, but he said one last thing before the curtain draped in front of his view of him. "He was a good fuck, you know."

\---

He didn't really know why he was getting into his car this early in the morning. It had not been two minutes after the bastard had left, and he was already taking orders from Zayn. He couldn't control his thoughts.

Why did Zayn want him? That man was the one who hurt Niall! Would Niall be okay? Why was he even doing this? What was the package? Why didn't Zayn tell him upright like he did last time?

Zayn was a lying, cheating bastard that always got his own way. He tricked Harry once into thinking he was nice, but now he was just being damn right evil. Harry wouldn't have minded so much if the man had took out a gun and had threatened Harry's life, but he was messing with his friend's life now, and Harry wasn't going to live with the fact that his friend died because he was a coward.

Harry wished that he had never had met Zayn. He wished that he had never taken the job. Never believed every work that bastard said and did everything he told him to. He only escaped because the deed was done and he just wanted to forget about it all.

But now it was all happening again, and Harry could do nothing about it.

He sat in his seat of his car, slamming the door shut. He noticed the sat nav stuck to the windshield, and he quickly pressed the 'on' button. The logo screen came on, and after quickly calibrating the coordinations, the loud female voice instructed, "Turn... left..."

Harry couldn't tell where it was going to lead him, and he didn't want to mess around with the sat nav in case he deleted the destination and mess up the whole thing and Niall get hurt, so he put the key into the car and turned it on. He drove to the end of the alley and turned left, catching up to ten miles over the speed limit, and riding into the darkness.

\---

Harry only stopped when he realised that he was going to die of bladder explosion. He was on the motorway heading North, so pulled into a petrol station just off the road and ran inside. He did his business in the small, dirty toilet, and then came back into the show area and bought himself some chocolate. There was no point having a proper meal; he knew he would probably just vomit it back up later. He decided that now was a good time to put more diesel into the car, and after paying for that he got back on the motorway and drove off.

His radio was broken, which was annoying. He was bored out of his mind, eight hours of driving and nothing to entertain him with. He had left his phone at home, and despite bashing his forehead into the steering wheel in frustration, it did not solve the problem.

He lent over quickly and opened his glove box, hoping to find his MP3 player he knew he had left somewhere in here last week. He kept his eyes on the road as he opened it, and then glanced down when there were no cars around him.

A shadow black hand gun lay still in the glove box. Harry almost knocked the wheel when he saw it, but gained his composure and put both hands back and the wheel and looked at the road.

He knew what it meant. Deliver the package by any means necessary. Kill, if he had too.

Zayn was evil and twisted.

It distracted him a lot. He would glance down at it every few seconds, and in the end he realised he couldn't really escape it, so took it out of the glove box and placed it on the passenger seat. He closed the glove box and focused back on the road. The gun was sat next to him, and that was fine. Nothing for him to panic about.

\---

When he finally heard the female voice say, "You have, reached... your destination," in the slow and robotic voice, Harry wanted to sigh with relief and scream in terror. He had been driving for eleven hours straight, and he needed a rest. But, he was here now, and he needed to pick up this package.

He debated waiting in the car for someone to show up, but he couldn't see anyone in the old scrap yard. There was mountains of old, squashed cars, but apart from his own, he couldn't see any in use cars waiting for the exchange.

He opened his door and got out, slamming his door behind him. He started to walk when he realised he really should be carrying that gun with him. He didn't really agree with having it, but he'd rather have it than die because he left it. He turned around quickly, diving into his car and grabbing the gun. He go back out and pushed it into the back of his pants, hiding it behind his loose T-shirt.

There was a bunker over on the far left of the yard, and Harry thought it was best he walk over there. He plodded around, keeping an eye on his surroundings. He couldn't help feel a cold shiver. This was a car graveyard, and it was a reminder of what was going to happen to the package he was going to deliver; end up in a graveyard.

He was right about going to the bunker. He entered through the big doors slowly to find three men stood there. They were all wearing black, one of them with a ski mask pulled down over their face, there other two with their masks worn like beanies. Harry noticed the sports bag placed in the middle of the men, and Harry had half expected it to be squirming around like the last one was.

"You Styles?" one of the men called. Harry nodded, taking another step into the room. He wanted to pass out, but he kept his cool. He just had to deliver the package, get his friend back, get the money Zayn promised him, then go back to getting fucked for money.

The two unmasked men looked at each other, and then both grabbed each end of the sports bag. They picked it up, and started towards Harry. The masked man walked over and stood next to Harry as the other two carried the bag outside. "Where's your car?"

Harry pointed in the general direction. "Over there, somewhere."

The man patted Harry heavily on the back and followed his fellow workers. Harry followed as well. When they all go to Harry's car, the masked man open the boot and they all shoved the bag into the back. Slamming the boot shut, one of the unmasked men turned to Harry with a glare in his eyes.

"You're not to open the bag, okay?"

Harry nodded. He had been told about this last time, except last time he didn't care about consequences, and he had opened the bag.

The man patted his back equally as hard as the masked one, and the three walked off by the to bunker, muttering their goodbyes.

Harry sat back in the drivers seat and breathed deeply.

That other bag. He couldn't stop thinking about it. He had pulled up at a petrol station, and out of curiosity he had opened the bag to reveal a white haired girl, duct tape around her mouth and wrists, screaming and begging to be let free. He had ignored her, zipping the bag back up and continuing on his way. He couldn't quite forget those piercing grey eyes, especially when he saw the news report on how they found Perrie Edwards, age 20, torchered and disemboweled, the report accompanied by a picture of the girl with grey eyes.

Harry turned the sat nav back on, and it was already set up for his next journey. He slowly pulled out of the scrap yard and headed South.

\---

He had to stop when he realised his eyes were slowly started to close. He didn't want to crash the car, so pulled up at a Premier Inn and got out of the car. He thought a moment about leaving the bag in the car, but then, maybe out of pure curiosity of what would happen, opened the boot and put the bag over his shoulder.

It was heavier than he imagined, but he tried not to look like he was struggling as he walked in the building and up to the front desk.

"Hello, have you got a room for the night?" He tried to give his best fake smile he could. It was hard to smile when he was carrying an unconscious human in a bag over his shoulder, who he was sending to their persecution and then death.

The lady at the desk gave him his key and he found his room. He opened the door and dropped the bag into the middle of the floor, and after locking the door he made his way and lay on the bed.

He stared at the ceiling for a while, drawing patterns with the crazy texture of the white roof. He sighed, relaxing into the duvet, and he felt deja vu as he did so. Just, this time there was a body in a bag a few feet away from him.

His head drooped to the side, his sleepy eyelids covering half of his eyes as he stared at the black sports bag. He couldn't quite tell if it was real, or if he had fatigue schizophrenia, but the bag moved a little, like a leg trying to stretch. He breathed in slowly, then let it all out with a sigh, and slowly got up from his comfortable position to kneel on the floor next to the bag.

He poked the person hard, apparently in the ribs because the person let out a yelp and flinched. The person's arms flared around in the confined space, and they tried to scream around the duct tape. They were panting, hyperventilating, scared.

Harry took pity. He knows that he shouldn't, but he did. Harry never learns from his past mistakes.

Curiosity kills the cat.

He pulled the zip open, just enough that the face of the person came into view. Harry was surprised that this person was not some innocent looking girl, but a feather haired, dark blonde male, with tanned skin and stumble dancing across his face behind the tape. His blue eyes were wide with fear as he looked up at the curly haired monster above him.

Harry sighed, quickly zipping the bag back up, much to the boy's protect. He had done it now. This man was going to die, and Harry was sending him there, all because Zayn was a bastard of a man who had money and enemies... and Niall. Zayn had Niall.

Harry wanting to lie back down on the bed and go to sleep, but he was worried that the staff might notice the man's muffled screaming. Harry laughed as he imagined the staff walking past and thinking that they were having sex or something, but Harry knew that he booked in as one person, so they would get suspicious, especially since he did get a few raised eyebrows walking in with the heavy bag.

Harry thought about the man for a moment, and then realised that he, and probably the man, were both hungry, so walked to the door and left to room to go and get some foot. He took a risk leaving the screaming man, but he was quick. He found a small cafe area in the main reception and bought two sandwiches and two bottles of cola.

"Hungry," he stated when he thought he saw the man at the till raise an eyebrow, and he then scurried back to his room.

Throwing the sandwiches onto the bed, he knelt back down next to the bag and unzipped it. The boy was looking as terrified as he was before. He knew he must think that Harry was going to kill him- technically, he was- so Harry tried to calm him down.

"Shush, look, I've got you some food." Harry reached behind and picked up a chicken sandwich and took it out of it's plastic wrapper. He brought it down close to the boy's face, and quickly the boy stopped moving and screaming. His eyes were locked onto the sandwich like it was his last meal. Probably was going to be.

"Now, if I take the tape off, you've got to promise me you'll be quiet, okay?" The boy didn't respond, eyes still locked on the sandwich. "If you shout, I won't feed you for the rest of the journey, okay?" The boy nodded.

Harry put the sandwich onto the wrapper and slowly reached up, taking care because he knew what it was like to have tape being ripped off your stubble (he knew from weird, kinky BDSM freak clients.) The boy grunted in pain, his eyes watching Harry's slowly movement as he peeled the tape off. Once half on his mouth was unstuck, then man mumbled out, "Please. Please just let me go."

He locked eyes with Harry, and tears started to glisten his blue eyes. Harry wanted to cover his mouth again, show some dominance, but then remembered that he wasn't here to be a prostitute; he was hear to send this man to his death.

He tore the rest of the tape off a little quicker, making the man yelp. "Please just let me go."

"I can't do that," Harry quickly said dryly, and before the man could plead anymore, he picked the sandwich back up and brought it to his lips. The man took a big bite out of it, moaning at the taste of food. He ate quickly, mumbling thank you's between mouthfuls. When he had finished the first sandwich of his pack, he quickly gasped out something Harry didn't want to know while Harry got his second sandwich.

"My name is Louis Tomlinson."

Harry shoved he sandwich into his face and stood up. Louis couldn't feed himself, his hands still tied behind his back and most of his body wrapped in the black bag, but Harry didn't care. He sat on the bed and opened his own pack of sandwiches, lifting one to his mouth and taking a big bite, his back to Louis.

They both ate in silence, Harry finishing his two sandwiches before turning back to see Louis struggling to get half way through his that was lying on the floor next to his face. Harry sighed and sat down next to him again, bringing it up to his mouth. Louis finished it quickly, muttering another, "Thank you," as he licked the crumbs off of his face.

"What's your name?"

Harry had no idea why Louis would want to know the name of the man who is delivering him to be executed, so gave the first name that came to his head. "Niall."

"Niall?" Louis asked, thinking about that name for a moment. "I'm sure I knew someone named Niall."

"Look," Harry said, picking the tape back up off of the floor, "I'm going to have to put this back on. I wasn't suppose to open the bag."

"Please don't. I promise I won't scream. Remember: you wont feed me, otherwise."

Harry wondered why Louis wasn't acting so scared, but then realised. Louis was trying to play mind games. Louis was going to try and trick his way out of this. Clever, Harry thought, but since Niall's life was on the line here, Harry wasn't going to fall for it.

"I'm sorry. Rules are rules." And with that the tape was back on, a little less sticky than Harry had hoped, and the bag was zipped up again. Harry turned around, took off his jeans and shoes, and climbed into bed, waiting until he heard soft snores coming from the bag before he allowed himself to fall under fatigue's grasp.

\---

Harry thought he might of woke in the night to Louis screaming, but he didn't. The boy must have slept through the whole night, and was probably still asleep as Harry jumped back into his jeans and waltzed over to the bag. It was eight in the morning, and they needed to get moving.

He rudely kicked the bag, earning himself a scream of pain from Louis. "Morning, sunshine," he called down, and he got a grumpy grumble in reply. "We've got to get going. We've got a long way to travel!"

Then Harry realised that carrying Louis out now would be harder. He was unconscious before, but now he was awake. He would have been away anyway if he hadn't of woken him up. He got an idea.

He unzipped the bag to see Louis glaring at him, eyes daggering into Harry's skull. "Look." Harry pulled the gun from the back of his jeans. "If you make any movement or sound while I get you back to the car, a lot of innocent people are going to die, okay?"

Louis' eyes widened. Harry must of been a good actor. Harry knew he couldn't shoot anyone; he didn't have the guts, but Louis seemed to believe that he would.

He quickly zipped the bag back up and, with great effort, heaved the bag onto his back. He left the room, Louis silent and motionless. The reception was full of people checking out. If Louis wanted to escape, this would be the perfect time.

Harry signed out quickly, and made it to the car. He thanked the Gods that Louis had kept to what he had said as he opened the boot of the car and pushed the bag in. He closed the boot and got into the front.

"Louis, can you hear me?" He didn't know whether or not Louis would be able to hear him. He was more concerned about Louis hearing the sat nav, in case he got any ideas. Much to his disappointment, Louis grunted in reply, and the back seats of the car banged and Louis punched them with his tied hands in the bag. Harry smirked, gave a small chuckle, then started the engine. He drove away from the Premier Inn and onto the motorway.

\---

Nothing much happens. Harry tries to entertain himself by playing 'Guess who long it'll be before Louis screams', which he usually guesses right, because every ten minutes Louis thrashes around the boot of his car, mumbling screams.

It was about an hour into the drive when Harry sees a service station park and pulls into it. He parks his car in the far corner, hidden behind some bushes, away from CCTV cameras. He grabbed a penknife he kept under his seat, hopped out, making sure no one is watching, and opened the boot. He unzips the bag and takes a look at Louis.

"Listen. I suppose you need the toilet, so I'm going to untie you, but I want you to stay close to me." He lifts his top up a little bit so Louis can get a glance at his gun. "I know how to use this," he lied, "and if you try to escape, you'll die. If you try to get someone to help you, they'll die. Got it?"

Louis nodded. Harry stared at Louis for a moment, but then reaches forward and peeled the tape off his mouth. It wasn't as sticky as before, Louis' breath wettening the glue. He unzipped the bag more to find the smaller boy dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt. He grabs Louis' hand and pulls him around, taking out his penknife and cutting through the tape around his wrists. He realises that he won't be able to tie Louis up again, but he'll worry about that when it comes to it.

He cuts Louis' ankles free as well and helps him out of the bag. Louis stretches his limps, groaning in relief as his joints click. "Thanks," he mumbles.

Harry grabs his collar and yanks him out of the boot. He closes the boot with a slam, grabbing Louis' wrist and dragging him towards the service mall. Whether it's his prostitute dominant side coming out or whether it's the fact he has a job to do, he knows he's being rough with Louis. Louis glares quickly at him, trying to pull his arm back, but Harry notices him glance down at the spot he knows where the gun is, and Louis is suddenly co-operative.

They enter the mall, and Harry spots the toilets at the far end. There are quite a few people here, a lot of families travelling to their holidays, and a few business people, and Harry sees Louis look around, and he can tell that Louis' imagining Harry killing them because he made a stupid move.

They get to the toilet, and Louis tries to run to a cubical, but ends up dragging Harry along with him. Harry doesn't trust Louis alone in the toilet, and he thinks to himself that it would be more awkward if he wasn't a prostitute before, because by now he's use to behind in a toilet cubical with another man. Just this time, the man's taking his pants down to take a shit, not be fucked.

Louis seemed too bothered about doing his business rather than having an audience. He does what he has to do, and then lets Harry take a piss.

They leave the toilets in a better frame of mind than when they went in. They start to walk towards the entrance when Louis' stomach rumbles, right when they walk past the small McDonalds there. Harry sighs and chuckles.

"Fine, we'll get something to eat."  
It feels more like a date than a hostage situation, the way that Louis' playfully waving his chips around in the air, dipping them into his tomato sauce with a goofy smile. Harry smiles fondly at him, but turns it into a glare when Louis smiles back.

Harry notices they both eat slowly, neither one of them wanting to get back into the car. Harry finds himself reaching forward, wiping away a bit of tomato sauce from the corner of Louis mouth. Louis brushes it off, and Harry wants to slap himself for doing so.

Sometimes, Harry had to remind himself that, although it is his profession to make people feel good, this is not the time and place to be trying to please someone. Zayn is not going to pay Harry for making Louis' final hours feel like he was loved.

Harry's ears picked up when he heard the young couple a few tables down mutter to each other, "Look at those two lads. Aren't they the sweetest?" Harry wanted to punch them.

When they finally finished, Harry stood up, gesturing for Louis to follow. Louis did, staying close. They walked past a small shop, and Harry saw as Louis' eyes wandered to the counter.

"Harry," he mumbled quietly. Harry groaned. He didn't want his cover to be blown, and now that Louis was well fed and had gone the toilet, he had all he reason to run. Louis smirked, and Harry knew this couldn't be good. "I won't run away if you buy me some chocolate."

\---

When they had got back to the car, at long last, Harry felt like it was useless putting Louis back into the bag, since the tape was cut and Louis would just escape. Harry opened the passenger door for Louis, who gave him a questioning look before climbing in. Harry walked around and got in the drivers seat. He clicked the button behind the steering wheel to lock the doors, and then sat silent in his seat. After a few moments, he turned to look at Louis.

"Alright, we need to set some rules."

Louis nodded, suddenly looking less bold than he did in the mall. Harry wiped his palm over his stubble as he thought.

"Rule one, don't try to escape."

Louis rolled his eyes. Like that wasn't obvious.

"Rule two, if you disobey any of the rules, I'll buy tape and put you back in the bag, and you won't get any food or water or toilet stops until we get where we're going."

Louis nodded. He seemed to appreciate the toilet stop, and the chocolate bar he was quietly munching on.

"Rule three, you do whatever I say, without any questioning. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to play along, you play along. If I tell you to kill someone, you do just that. Got it?"

Louis stared at Harry like a madman.

"Got it?" Harry asked again, his voice stronger this time. Louis nodded violently.

"Rule four, you can sit in the front as long as you don't try and do anything. You speak only when spoken to my myself, and you do not talk to anyone else."

"You're starting to repeat yourself," Louis said, smiling slightly.

"I don't care."

"You said about my position in the car twice, and you said about my authority twice."

Harry grabbed hold of the steering wheel of the motionless car and gripped it tight. Normally he'd slap someone who disobeyed him like this. Put them in their place, because that's what dominants to in sex. But in this situation, Harry had to cope with it and be sneaky.

"Do you promise you'll follow all of my rules?"

Louis was silent for a moment before he nodded his head. "Oh course, Sir."

It was instincts to get excited when people called him 'Sir' or 'Master', so it wasn't Harry's fault that he found it hard to drive away from the service station without his pants becoming a little bit constrictive.

Only a little, because he would not give Louis the pleasure of knowing his influence over Harry.

\---

"Where are we going?"

"I don't know."

"How long will it take?"

"I don't know."

"Then just look at the sat nav. It tells you at the bottom."

Harry glanced down at the sat nav and sighed. "Nine hours."

"Oh, okay."

Louis turned and looked back out of his window. Harry gripped the steering wheel. He hated how this boy was so chatty. Surely he must know that this road trip is leading to his death. Harry sighed again and reached down to turn the radio on, only to remember that it wasn't working. He wanted to close his eyes in frustration, but he needed to drive.

"Oh, there's a service station up ahead. Can we get something to eat, please?"

Harry glared at the road. "We ate two hours ago."

"I know, but I'm hungry again."

Harry really wasn't liking this. He wished he had followed orders and had not opened the bag. He wished he had never met Louis.

"We're not pulling over."

"Why?"

Harry gripped the wheel. "Because we need to get where we're going."

The car was silent for a few moments, and then Louis let out a scream. Harry almost lost control of the car in surprise, gaining it back quickly. Louis thrashed his arms around, screaming and crying things like "help" and "rape" as loud as he could. Harry knew nobody could hear him- they were in the middle of the God damn motorway- but Louis' screams annoyed the shit out of him.

Ten seconds into screaming and Harry was on the verge of killing Louis himself.

"Fine," he exclaimed, sharply turning the wheel to the left. They drove up the exit to the roundabout and pulled into the service station and parked the car near the back.

Harry turned and glared at Louis, who had now shut up. "You really are annoying, you know that. No wonder Zayn wants you dead."

Silence loomed over the car. Louis looked like he had just watched a baby get shot in the head. His eyes were wide and his mouth was ajar, hurt and fear consuming the once smiley face. Harry would have felt bad if it weren't for the fact that we wasn't suppose to feel anything towards this man. No compassion, no pity. Nothing.

Louis closed his mouth into a sad frown, his eyes scrunching, and he looked on the verge of tears. "You- you think I'm annoying?"

Harry wanted to comfort him, but didn't. "Yes, yes you are annoying. Extremely."

Louis turned to face away from Harry, looking out his window to the few shops that were at his service station. Harry let out a shaky sigh, placing his forehead against the steering wheel. He silently counted to ten in his head, then rose to look at Louis.

"What did you want from here anyway?"

Louis ignored him. Harry pouted but then got out of the car and walked around to Louis' side, throwing the door open and grabbing Louis' collar and dragging him out. "You wanted to come here, so here you are."

He pulled Louis over to the shops, Louis pulling back in slight protest. Harry knew that Louis wasn't going to be as co-operative as he was before, but he knew the sooner they were back on the road, the better.

They walked into the Boots there, and Harry picked up two meal deals for the both of them while Louis glanced around the shelves of brightly coloured bottles of perfume and drugs. Harry paid and dragged Louis back out, handing him his sandwich. They got back into the car and ate in silence.

"So, what's going to happen to me when we get to where we're going?" Louis asked timidly. This was the first time Louis had acknowledged the fact that he was going to die.

Harry scrunched up the plastic wrapper of the sandwich and threw it into Louis' foot-well. He didn't want to answer truthfully, didn't want to tell him about Perrie, so answered with, "I don't know."

"Why doesn't Zayn just kill me himself? Why does he have to me to bloody- I don't know- Australia to kill me?"

"He probably had his reasons..."

Louis accepted this. "So, do you work for Zayn?"

Harry shook his head. "It's a bit complicated." He didn't want to have to explain to Louis why everything was happening the way it was. Zayn could have picked any one of his men to do the job, but Zayn chose Harry, because he knew just how to manipulate him.

"So, I'm going to die, aren't I..."

"Why do you have to ask questions all of the time? I don't know, Louis. Zayn asked me to take you there; I don't know what else goes on in his freakish mafia crap."

Louis coiled in on himself at Harry's outburst. He lent back in his seat and stared out of his window. He was quiet for a moment, before silently mumbling, "We should get going..."

Harry turned the key in the car and pulled out, driving back onto the motorway.

\---

When they arrived at Dover, it was getting dark. The sat nav was telling Harry to take the ferry across to France, and after quickly realising everything, he pulled up at a Holiday Inn and placed his forehead on the steering wheel.

"Are you staying here tonight?" Louis asked, looking at the glowing Holiday Inn logo.

"Probably," Harry said. He thought about it for a moment. He and Louis would both need passports to get into France, and even if Zayn had somehow put Harry's passport in the car (which Harry expected, since the sat nav and gun were so carefully placed), they'd expect Harry to be transporting Louis still in the bag. The French boarder security would find Louis and arrest Harry. Making the journey across with Louis was almost impossible.

Harry jumped out of the car, Louis following in toe. Harry needed time to device a plan. They both walked towards the Holiday Inn. Before they got there, Harry grabbed Louis' arm.

"Any funny moves, and I'll make sure this gun is put to good use," he roughly whispered into Louis' ear, and then let go of his arm. Louis nodded.

They got a room, and to Harry surprise, the receptionist must have assumed they were lovers, and had given them a double bed to share. Not that Harry minded too much, since he was use to sleeping with strangers, but he didn't want to be too close to Louis.

Louis went and lay on the bed straight away, sighing as he relaxed.

"It'll be good to get a good night sleep before my death tomorrow," he said, smiling up at the ceiling with his eyes closed.

Harry glared at him. How could he be so relaxed about his death. He had to ask. He sat down on the bed and lay next to Louis.

"Why are you like this?"

Louis turned his head and gave Harry a questioning look.

"Why are you so calm?"

Louis smiled with a little laugh, turning to look back at the roof. "I don't know. I guess I've had time to think about it- you know, when I was stuck in that bag."

Harry hummed in response. He was silent while he thought, but then asked, just out of curiosity, "Why does Zayn want you dead?"

Louis audibly sighed, and then chuckled as he covered his weary eyes with his hands. "My father was an arse to him." Louis chuckled again, tucking his legs onto the bed. "I think he owed Zayn something. I think think he gave him what he wanted, so they took me."

"I don't get why you have to go to France to be killed. Why doesn't Zayn just kill you?"

"I'm wondering the same..."

"What did they do to you before I showed up?" Harry was genuinely curious. He was bad for that.

Louis chuckled- Harry was still wondering why he was so calm as to chuckle- and then answered. "They kidnapped me. Had me tied to a chair, slapping me, trying to make me cry and beg for my release. I did cry; I mean, who wouldn't if they had whips and sticks to hit you with."

Harry thought of his BDSM encounters, how those people were begging for more, not for him to stop.

"At one point they got a video camera out. Apparently my father was watching them torture me. Zayn came in the room at that point- hardly saw anything of him the entire time- and he told my father to give him the money or they'll kill me. I think Zayn had a ear piece to hear my father, because I didn't hear anything, but then Zayn laughed and said that he'd kill me, and that my father was a terrible father."

Harry turned onto his side to face Louis. "So your dad's not gonna save you?"

"Nah. He isn't actually my father, anyway. My real father left when I was young. The arse who doesn't love me if the father of my half-sisters. He only cares about them; Zayn made a mistake taking me. I guess Zayn assumed that taking me was a good idea because I'm the oldest, and his 'son'..."- Louis made bunny ears with his fingers- "but it's not like I'm going to inherit his wealth. Lottie will get it all."

"She your sister?"

"Yeah..." Louis was silent, but then moved his hands to look at the ceiling. "I liked her, you know. She was nice to me." He paused. "She's probably worried about me."

"You'll be fine," Harry said instinctively, but then realised the situation. "Or maybe not..."

"Thanks for that," Louis said sarcastically, but then, with a small laughed, turned to face away from Harry, tucking his knees up into his chest.

Harry thought he was ignoring him now, but then Louis asked, "What about you? What were you doing before this? Were you scrubbing Zayn's shoes, or something?"

Harry knew he shouldn't open up too much to the boy, he knows this too well from his job, but he decided to tell him anyway. "I don't work for Zayn. He just asked me to do him a favour."

"A favour? Dude, you're his Postman Pat, with his first class package being me!"

Harry laughed at Louis joke, but then continued. "He's offering me a lot of money for this."

"It's always about the money, isn't it..."

Harry could feel the little waves of hatred floating across the bed. "He took my friend. I was going to refuse the money, but he took Niall."

"Niall? I thought your name was Niall." Louis sat up and turned to face Harry.

Harry bit his lip. Oh yeah, he forgot he told Louis his name was Niall. Harry sat up as well, crossing his legs under him.

"Sorry. I didn't want to tell you my real name." Louis was glaring at him, so Harry decided to tell him the truth. "I'm Harry." When Louis continued to glare, Harry reached into his back pocket and brought out his wallet, showing Louis his bank card. Louis seemed convinced and stop glaring.

"I guess it's understandable," he said, looking down at his knees.

Harry knew it would regret saying it, but he did anyway. "I'm actually a prostitute."

Louis stared at him for a second, before bursting into laughter. "Wait- wait a moment," he gasped, "you're a hooker?"

Harry nodded, grinning and slightly blushing. "I know; why is a hooker playing postman?"

Louis slapped his knee in laughter, trying to calm himself down. "Well, damn, I guess that's the reason why there's been so much sexual tension!"

The laughter stopped at that. Harry saw it: the look that burnt through Louis' eyes in a matter of nanoseconds. He watched as Louis' eyes grew slowly, his lips gently growing bigger. He knew it was going to happen.

Louis was a little bitch. He had been trying to trick Harry the whole journey, and Harry knew that this was the part where Louis was to get him in his trap, and then escape later.

Two can play at that game.

Harry sat up on his knees, reaching across the bed, leaning on one hand by Louis' legs and gently placing his other palm on Louis' jaw line, pulling Louis forward to meet halfway. Their lips met, and although to Harry, this was normal, not different, he heard Louis moan a little. Louis' chest was undoubtedly exploding with fireworks. Louis was in the trap, not Harry.

Louis hooked his arms around the back of Harry's neck, one hand tangling its fingers in Harry's chocolate curls, pulling Harry down on top of him. Harry slotted himself between Louis' legs, skillfully thrusting forward. Louis was already half-hard. Bingo.

He could feel Louis' tongue poking at the seam of his lips, but Harry was the one in control tonight. He pulled away, attaching his lips to the spot under Louis' ear, sucking hard, earning himself a low moan from the smaller boy.

Louis trusted his hips upwards, one hand scratching it's way down Harry's neck and between his should blades. They would have gone further, if not for Harry's shirt stopping him.

Louis groaned, letting out a shaky, "Niall..."

Harry stopped at that. He didn't know why it felt to weird; he was use to being called many names during sex, but this was different.

He sat up on his knees, looking down at Louis. Louis realised. "Harry. I told you, my real name is Harry."

Louis sat up, leaning back on his hands. "Sorry, Harry. I'm sorry."

Harry was suddenly not in the mood for any of this. There was never any fireworks, because fireworks need a flame to ignite them. He told himself this metaphor was stupid, because you can have a flame, and not put it close to the firework.

Harry stood up, rubbing his face with his palm, and walked to the en suit of the room. He locked the door behind him, leaning back on it and sighing. He could hear Louis wanking in the next room, and he ignored it. He didn't need to wank. He didn't need anything. Except sleep. Louis finished, so he walked back into the room and lay in the bed, facing away from Louis.

He couldn't sleep, thinking about how he was going to get Louis over the boarder. He could feel Louis tossing and turning. He assumed Louis thought he was asleep, and he almost jumped when he felt an arm snake around his waist.

Louis was going to die tomorrow. He may as well let him.

\---

When he woke up, Louis was gone. He wanted to scream.

How could he be so stupid. Niall was going to die now, all because he let Louis out of his sight. He jumped out of bed, ignoring the morning wood he was sprouting, and ran towards the door of the room. He took note of the sounds as he walked past the en suit, then realised the shower was on, and a lad was in there, making sounds you would expect from someone else who woke up with morning wood.

The door was unlocked, which Harry couldn't help but feel like it was left like that on purpose, and he entered to see the slim, curvy back of Louis. And that arse.

Harry glared as Louis looked innocently over his shoulder. "Oh, morning Harry." He slowly, suggestively, rubbed his shower gel covered hands down his arms and onto his hips, leaving a trail of white soap bubbles behind, framing his arse with a perfect halo. Harry gulped. This was not helping the situation in his own pants.

"You look like you need a shower, Harry," Louis said with a grin, and then his eyes flickered down. "You definitely need a shower, you dirty little slut."

"I'm not a slut," Harry said defensively.

Louis smirk and slowly turned around, facing Harry, showing Harry everything at the front. "Oh, but Harry, you are a slut. A dirty, little slut who has sex for money." Louis raised a hand, his fingers curling, signalling Harry forward.

Harry reached down and took his T-shirt off. His jeans were already off, since he didn't sleep in them, so Harry was stood in front of the shower in just his boxers.

Louis placed a finger under Harry's chin, leaning down so they were eye to eye. He smiled, his eyes flickering down to Harry's lips, and with that they were covered with his own lips. A sound caught in Harry's throat, surprising himself, but then he couldn't help bringing his hands to hold Louis' soap-covered hips steadily, leaning further into the kiss.

Louis starter to stand up straight while kissing, making Harry lean further into it. Harry wanted more, he didn't care anymore, and lifted a leg over the side of the bath and stepped under the waterfall, his boxers getting more drenched. He pushed Louis back into the wall, their cocks lining up next to each other, hips thrusting together.

Louis kept their lips together, his tongue attempting to enter again, succeeding this time, Harry pulling Louis' tongue in with a moan.

They stood like that for a few minutes, lips locked, tongues flicking, hips thrusting, until Louis pulled away, pressing his lips to Harry's throat.

"I took the liberty of prepping myself," he mumbled into Harry's skin. Harry moaned, a hand on Louis' waist trailing down between Louis' butt cheeks, tracing Louis' hole, and- yes, he had prepped himself.

Harry groaned, a combination of the through of Louis fingering himself and Louis sucking his neck right now, and he took a step back, turning Louis around and pushing his body flush against the wall, Louis' face squashed on the white tiles. Louis moaned, and grunted, "Fuck me, Harry."

It was a matter of seconds for Harry to take off his boxers and slide in. They moaned in harmony, and Harry shut his eyes in bliss. Louis was right: there has been sexual tension between the two.

He slowly opened his eyes, feeling Louis pushing backwards onto his cock, and started to thrust forward, his cock burying itself deeper into the smaller boy.

It really didn't take much. He was so close, even before he entered Louis, and within a matter of a few thrusts, the familiar sensation was bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He bent forward, pressing his cheek into Louis' shoulder blades.

Louis screamed a moan, and Harry laced his hand around, folding his fingers over Louis' cock, and a few strokes he felt his hand become wet again, Louis letting out a string of moans and mumbled Harry's name.

Harry let go, and his vision turned to black momentarily. He regained his senses again to find he and Louis laying in the bath, Louis still sat on Harry's softening cock, but both too tired to even move. It was surely half an hour before Louis sat up slowly, his knees weak and wobbly, and he reached up and turned the shower off. He got out of the shower, grabbing and towel and throwing another at Harry.

"I think we should be going soon. Death waits for no one."

Harry smiled stupidly up at the ceiling, resting the back of his head on the side of the bath. He didn't want to leave. Ever.

\---

"Why did we stop?"

Harry was gripping the wheel, staring at the stretch of hard shoulder in front of him. Cars were whizzing past him, and he quickly turned on his hazard lights.

"Harry?"

"Louis, you can't go."

"What?"

"I can't take you there."

Louis reached across and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Do you pity me, or something?"

Harry flared his arms in frustration. "No, I physically can't take you there. I've checked the car. Neither of us have passports. We can't get to France."

"Is that where we're going?"

"I think..."

They were both silent for a moment before Louis spoke. "Why don't we just go back to Zayn and ask for passports? I'm sure he'll give us some; fake passports, even. He can't have been that much of an idiot not to give you passports."

"He'll kill us both if we go back for passports."

"Then why not use that gun of yours?"

Harry looked confused at Louis for a moment- like, really, was this guy wanting to get killed or something- but then he reached behind and took his gun from his jeans. He checked the chamber.

"I only have six bullets."

"That's enou-"

"I'm not gonna kill people, Louis. I can't."

Louis smirked. "So if I had told someone you were holding me hostage, you wouldn't have killed them?"

Harry hit his forehead, too much frustration, and sighed. "Yes, Louis, I wouldn't have killed them. I'm too much of a wimp."

"But technically you're killing me."

Harry glared at Louis. "That doesn't matter."

"So, I don't matter, right?" Louis hit his knees. "I'm just another client to you. Another useless fuck, right?"

Harry groaned. Louis didn't get it.

"We had sex because we were both horny, and you were being a sly little fuck."

Louis pouted at this and turned to look out of the window. They both thought for a moment before Harry reached forward and turned the key again. "We'll turn around. I'm sure the sat nav will show us where to go."

He turned the hazard light off and pulled back onto the road, and at the next roundabout he turned onto the other side of the motorway, heading North.

\---

It was around lunch time that Louis convinced Harry to pull in at a service station to get lunch. They both sat down in the Subway with their sandwiches in silence. There hadn't been much talking the past few hours, Louis still pissed off at Harry. Harry didn't really know what to expect. Maybe Louis was just pissed off that his plan wasn't working properly. He hoped Louis did realise that Harry was delaying his death by a few days.

Louis was looking over Harry's shoulder at the car park. Harry watched as his face scrunched.

"What?" he said dryly.

Louis scrunched his lips and the spoke. "I know there's not much choice on a motorway, but I think that car's been following us."

Harry turned to look over his shoulder, and yes, a black car with tinted windows was parked right next to Harry's car. He had noticed it on the motorway. It was driving right behind Harry, not bothering to overtake him, even though Harry was going slightly under the speed limit. It did seem awfully strange that it had parked next to them.

They both watched the car for a second before Harry turned around to continue eating. He took a bite, enjoying the chicken, when Louis said something that stopped him.

"It's them."

Louis jumped up from his chair, leaving his sandwich on the table, his eyes wide with fear. Harry turned around quickly to see three men getting out of the car. They were obviously Zayn's men. They had turned around, and now they were being followed.

Harry stood up next to Louis. The few other customers and staff were looking at them curiously, the show they were putting on was certainly interesting. Harry couldn't face these men; they'd shoot Harry without an explanation and take Louis. Harry had to get back to Zayn before his men killed him.

Harry grabbed Louis' hand and pulled him behind the counter, pushing past the sandwich makers and into the kitchen. He spotted the door at the back and ran to it, pressing the emergency open bar and leaping out, Louis close by.

They ran around the side of the building. They needed to get to the car without being caught, and then he needed to outrun the men. Simple, right?

Turning the last corner of the building, they spotted the car, but a black suited body stood in the way. Harry pulled Louis behind him, and something controlled him. His hand reached for the gun, and he pulled it out, and without even thinking there was a bullet bedded in the man's brain, and his body flopped onto the floor.

Louis gasped, a hand on Harry's shoulder. The shot was fired at such a close distance that blood had splattered across Harry and Louis' faces. Harry wanted to wipe it off, but another man was running towards them.

He pulled Louis back against the wall. He knew he couldn't waste bullets, and he knew he was a crap shooter at a long distance, so waited for the man to come around the corner. He was possessed again, his stomach heaving as he watched the hole appear in the man's eye socket, and his body turned and collapsed next to the other dead body.

Louis was grabbing his arm, shaking as he watched this previously gentle man become a killing monster. He had underestimated Harry. He had wondered why Zayn had hired him, and now he could see why. He may have been a shit shooter, and he may want to throw up at the thought of killing, but Harry was a determined man, and if months of prostitution have taught him anything, it's how to cope with things he doesn't like.

Harry waited for the third man to run around the building, but then realised that nobody was coming. If Harry were that man, he would come around the other wa-

Louis scream, and Harry felt him being dragged away from where he was clutching at Harry side. Harry spun around, his gun pointed, and shit. The man had Louis in front of him, using Louis as a shield, a gun held to Louis head. They all stood still, waiting for someone to move.

"Styles, what do you think you're doing?" the man asked. Harry ignored him. "We you trying to help this man?"

"We need passports," Louis said quickly, and the man shook him violently, pressing the gun further into Louis' temple.

Louis locked eyes with Harry. He was scared, but Harry could see that other look in his eye. The same look Louis had every time he was planning something. Harry gave him a small smile. Louis had a brain; his plan would work, he knew it.

Louis quickly reached behind, gripping his fingers into the man's hair, and pulled his head into view. The man went to retaliate, but with one look at Louis and a small prayer that he didn't hit him, Harry shot the gun.

They both fell to the ground, and for a second Harry thought he had killed Harry. He ran over, leaning over to see the hole in the man's head.

Louis screamed. It was more scared that his other screams, more pain filled. Harry reached down and pulled Louis up. There was blood, and Harry's mind was going over how to perform CPR. Louis was clutching his hand, screaming his lungs out. Harry grabbed his wrist and looked at his hand to find a chunk of his hand below his baby finger missing. Harry wanted to scream himself, and the wave of nausea crashed over him again.

He reacted quickly. He took off his T-shirt, wrapping it around Louis bleeding hand, bringing Louis' hand up to place it on his opposite shoulder.

"Louis, I need you to listen to me," he said while shushing the agony-filled boy. He brushed a hand through Louis' hair, and in instinct leaned forward and placed a kiss on the small boy's forehead.

"I need to get some stuff. Stay here. Do not go anywhere, okay."

He knew more of Zayn's men could come and take Louis while he ran to the Boots shop there was next to the Subway, but he had no choice. He stood up and ran to the Boots, crashing into the shop like a zombie, covered in blood and looking around urgently. The staff must have heard the gunshots and he was being handed bandages, antiseptic liquids and slings, the staff unknowingly given their stock to the person who fired the shots, and Harry was shouting quick thank you's and running back to Louis.

Louis was still there, screaming when he got back. He knelt down in front of him, taking Louis' hand in his gently and unwrapping his T-shirt. It was ruined, but he could just buy a new one. He opened the antiseptic liquid thing- he wasn't too sure what it was- and poured it over Louis hand. Louis screamed more, his hands tearing and ripping on the tarmac had he gripped it in pain. Harry noticed and poured some on his other hand as well, just in case. He unwrapped the bandages quickly, giving it his best shot at wrapping the wound up. He never really knew first aid that much, but he got them on and he hoped that the bleeding would stop soon.

He had no idea how the sling worked, trying and failing a few times to get it on, and in the end Louis, having gained some strength, helped him out, obviously knowing more than what Harry did.

"You'll be okay, Lou. Just... just hold on, okay?"

Louis looked at Harry through lidded eyes. He was pale. Harry threw the rest of the bandages and one of the men's guns onto Louis' lap, hooked an arm under Louis' leg and another under his back and picked Louis up. Stepping over one of the dead bodies, Harry carried Louis back to the car and placed him in the passenger seat. He jumped into the drivers seat and drove quickly, knowing the police would show up any moment now.

Back on the motorway again, Louis spluttering and crying, clutching his hand where it lay on his shoulder. Harry sighed. He knew there was no way he was going to let this man die.

He was screwed.

\---

They stopped at another service station to buy Harry a T-shirt and Louis some chocolate, because Harry thought that chocolate might calm him down a little bit. He couldn't imagine the pain Louis was going through, and he was surprised that Louis hadn't passed out or died on him, but he was glad that Louis was alive.

At the new service station, there was a Premier Inn, and since they both had to sit down and think of what they were going to do, they decided to stay there the night. They were at risk of Zayn finding them, but they didn't care. For now, they needed to think.

They got asked about Louis' hand when they entered, but they brushed it off and got a room close to the door, for quick escape.

Louis climbed into the bed and tried not to start crying again. He was scared and in pain, and Harry felt bad for him. Harry sat next to him and rubbed a hand over his back.

"What are we going to do?" Louis asked, staring at the wall.

Harry shrugged. "I can't let them hurt you."

Louis turned to look at Harry, a faint smile on his face. "Why? You won't get paid."

"I never cared about the money."

"But what about Niall?"

"He's probably dead already. They won't give me a chance to explain about the passports, not that I want to take you anymore." Harry paused. "You can leave, if you want."

"No!" Louis shouted, he sat up and used his free hand to shove Harry hard. "They'll find me and kill me if I was alone, and you know that. So much for trying to save me. I really don't get you. One minute you're a deadly Postman Pat, then you're a straight-faced prostitute, then you're a loving sweetheart, and now..."

Harry locked eyes with Louis.

Louis glared. "I hate you, Harry. I hate everything about you!"

Harry knelt on the bed, glaring back.

"I hate the things you say. I hate that you break all of your promises. I hate how you can see through all of my plans. I hate how you such up to Zayn like a little bitch. I hate how you fucked me just because that's your job. I hate that your friend got caught. I hate you. I hate you so much. I h-"

Louis was shoved backwards so hard, and he screamed when Harry's body crushed his hand. His scream was dissolved into Harry's mouth, his lips devoured by Harry's. His eyes shut, and he ignored the pain and anger. This was passion. This was hope.

This was love.

He pushed Harry back, shoved him into the bed just as hard as Harry had done, straddling his hips and slamming his lips back into Harry's.

It hurt so much, but neither of them cared. Harry told himself, fuck the fireworks, the whole room was burning down, the bed sheets on fire and the wallpaper combusting quicker than a trail of gunpowder.

Louis was not going to get hurt from anyone except Harry. Rough sex against walls and crushed hands. It was Harry's job to hurt Louis, to mark his claim on his and call him his.

And Louis wouldn't have it any other way.

\---

Neither could sleep that night. They sat up talking.

"What is Niall was still alive?"

"I doubt it. Zayn assumes I cowered out. He would have killed Niall by now."

"But we could still save him."

Harry admired Louis optimism. "So what, we storm into Zayn's HQ and just take Niall back from them?"

Louis thought for a moment and then said, "Well, if I was Zayn, I probably would have been smart enough to figure out what we are doing. He had the track on us, doesn't he. He would be able to see that we're heading back his way. He would have figured out about the passports. I think Zayn will use Niall to try and get you to continue your job, or at least give me to someone else to do the job for him." Louis paused, then said with a confident smile, "I'd put money on it."

Harry raised an eyebrow and smiled. "You think?"

Louis nodded and then placed his head on Harry's legs and were hung over the edge of the bed. Harry reached down and tangled his fingers into the feathery hair. The blood had been washed off both of their bodies, and Louis' hair was not sticky anymore and was now fresh and soft. He could sit there all night like this, with Louis' head in his lap and his hand in Louis' hair, but then Louis groaned, clutching his hand.

Harry got up and went to the en suit and opened the cabinet to find the box of pain killers he had found before. He brought them back to Louis with a glass of water and gave him two.

"You'll be fine, Lou," he whispered, petting his hair again. "We'll be okay."

\---

Harry woke up surprised that Zayn's men hadn't attacked. He was even more surprised that Louis wound wasn't infected when he changed the bandages. He was exceedingly surprised that Louis was right about Zayn.

They sat in Harry's car, after discussion of what to do, to find a new type of sat nav placed on the wind shield. Louis was the one to notice it, and when they turned it on a message appeared on the screen.

'You want Niall? Need passports?  
The Ferry Inn, Scrabster, Thurso, KW14 7UJ'

"Where the fuck is that?" Harry asked. Louis took the sat nav off the window and messed around a bit before chuckling.

"Scotland."

"Where about in Scotland?"

Louis showed Harry the map where a pin point was showing at the very top of the UK island. Harry gasped and then chuckled, despite being pissed off. "He really isn't making it easy for us, is he?"

Harry turned the key in the car. "Well, we better get going then."

Louis pointed upwards with a bright smile. "To Narnia!"

\---

"I spy with my little eye, something beginning with..." Louis looked around. There was a lot of cars stopped around them, and not much to actually choose. They hadn't moved in the past hour, and Louis had started a game of I Spy to pass the time. "... D. Something beginning with D."

Harry looked at the car in front and sighed. "Dog."

"Correct!" Louis said loudly. "Your turn!"

Harry sighed again. He was bored. He didn't want to face Zayn, but he didn't want to be stuck in traffic right now. He was paranoid of more of Zayn's men showing up, though Louis had reasoned with him, saying they would leave them alone now, but Harry was still worried.

"I spy a exit," Harry said, noticing the exit sign between a few cars up ahead. It had the yellow 'M' of McDonalds and the white bed logo indicating a Premier Inn or a Holiday Inn, or something along the lines of a place to sleep.

Louis sighed. "Harry, you're not suppose to tell me what you've spotted."

Harry laughed and patted Louis' leg. "Never mind, Lou. I think we should eat there. When we get there, we'll go to Maccies, eh?"

Louis smiled and nodded.

It was half an hour later that they managed to squeeze their way to the exit and sat down in McDonalds with two Big Mac's.

Louis played with his chips again, waving his chips around and dunking them, only this time he was feeding Harry the chips. Harry laughed, licking the tomato sauce off of his lips every time Louis missed. Louis' laugh unified Harry's. This time when people commented cute things about them he wanted to hug them instead of punch them. He liked Louis, more than he should. He doesn't regret opening that bag, and he didn't think he'd ever regret it in the whole of the rest of his life.

The booked into Holiday Inn, Harry wondering how long it would be until his bank card ran out of money, and they both jumped onto the bed, Harry being careful with Louis' hand. Harry was bent over Louis, their foreheads pressed together and their noses being crushed.

"Harry," Louis said, his eyes closed tightly as he laughed. Harry laughed as well, smiling down.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you more."

"I love you most."

\---

It was around lunch time the next day that Harry starts to feel the butterflies in his stomach. He tells himself it's because he's hungry, but he knows it's because they're getting close to the place where they need to be. A few hours ago they passed the Scottish boarder, and they were almost there.

"What's the plan again?" Louis asked again, pulling at the sling that was still wrapped around his neck.

"We walk in. Going by theory, Niall will be there as well. They'll probably be putting on a show, holding him at gun point, or some shit like that. They'll give us the passports, and then- have you still got that gun?"

Louis held up the gun Harry had given him from one of the men that had attacked them. Harry smiled.

"Then, when I say 'I guess we'll go then', we shoot them. They'll probably shoot us back, so we have to be quick about it. Then we get Niall and get out of there." Harry paused. "How many bullets do you have?"

Louis check the chamber. "Two."

"Three," Harry said.

Five bullets. They had a chance.

"I'm a good shooter. My father, despite being an arsehole, did teach me how to shoot when I was young. He only started hating me when I came out to him."

Harry was silent. He was hating Louis' father more and more now. Not saving him, being homophobic... What else; did this man rape Louis' mother as well?

Louis sat upright and clutched Harry's arm on the steering wheel. Harry looked around, thinking he had spotted some of Zayn's men, but then saw the signpost.

"We're here."

They found The Ferry Inn easily and parked the car in the car park. They walked in to find it this hotel to be quite normal. Harry thought quickly and assumed Zayn had booked a room in his name.

"Have you got a room for Styles?"

The man at the reception looked over the register and nodded and handed Harry a key, muttering an "Enjoy your stay" as they walked towards their room.

They stood outside the door silently, looking at each other. Louis gave Harry an encouraging smile. "We'll be fine," he mouthed and gave another smile, patting his back where the gun was. It would be fine.

Harry opened the door slowly, and, as part of acting, pushed Louis roughly into the room. He walked in behind as Louis dropped to his knees on the floor. Zayn was stood by the bed, four of his men stood next to him. Harry spotted Niall behind held, like he predicted, by one of the men at gun point. He wanted to chuckle, but now wasn't the time.

Zayn was grinning at Harry, that smile that Harry had grown to hate. His wrist flicked up to reveal two passports in his hand.

"Since this little bitch is out of his cage," Zayn said, stepping forward towards where Louis was knelt, "I guess he had to have a passport as well." Zayn held the passports out to Harry. Harry reached out to grab them off him when Zayn grabbed his wrist with his other hand, gripping it tightly, nails digging into Harry's veins.

"Oh Harry," he sighed, stepping closer so that he was in Harry's face, "I do recall telling my men to tell you to not look in the bag. You seem to have a tendency to disobey orders." He finally shoved the passports into Harry's hand and turned around to walk back.

Harry opened the first passport. It was Louis', except this passport said that his name was David Jones. Harry raised an eyebrow at Zayn. "Fake names?"

"Naturally."

Harry opened the other passport to see his own face behind the shiny plastic coating. He then noticed the name. Niall Horan. He wouldn't have thought much of it at first, but then he realised it.

When he faked his name to Louis, he had used Niall's name.

Zayn had no only been following them, but listening to every word they had been saying.

Louis had a microphone on him somewhere.

He tried not to react and nodded, putting the passports into his pocket. He could tell that Zayn knew their plan. Zayn knew that they were going to shoot them. Harry took a second glance at the men. Bullet-proof vests. Bullet-proof pants. Bullet-proof hats.

Shit.

They had five bullets, and five people to kill. They couldn't waste bullets on them. But Harry had to play along. He had to take care. He couldn't tell Louis not to attack. He just wouldn't say 'well I guess we'll go then', that way Louis wouldn't attack. Change the plan. They couldn't save Niall.

"Well," Zayn said, grinning at Harry, "I guess you'll go then."

Harry thanks his lucky stars that Louis didn't react. Zayn was probably expecting them to attack, or at least for Harry to agree and say the line, but nothing happened. Zayn's face dropped a little, Harry noticed, but he continued grinning.

"What's gonna happen with Niall?" Harry asked. Zayn raised an eyebrow but then turned to look at the blonde.

"Once you drop this bitch off, we'll have him returned to your apartment."

Harry glared. "How do I know you won't kill him while I'm gone."

Zayn sighed, obviously waiting for the action scene shootout to happen. He looked Harry in the eye and said, "I promise I will not kill Niall."

"Promise?"

Zayn groaned. "I just did."

Harry glared at Zayn, then nodded. "Okay." He looked down at Louis and shoved him with his foot. "Come on, bitch, let's go."

Louis looked up at Harry, confusion on his face. Harry grabbed Louis' shoulder and pulled him up, shaking him to come. He dragged Louis out of the room and into the corridor then stopped as soon as the door closed behind them.

Louis was about to ask why they didn't attack when Harry put a hand over his mouth. He looked over Louis' body, searching for the microphone. He spotted it a few minutes later, clipped onto the back of his jeans. He pulled it off and threw it on the floor, crushing it beneath his shoe. Louis looked confused at him, but then Harry whispered, "They were listening to everything we said. They knew we were going to attack."

"Let's run back in there and attack. They won't suspect it, then!"

Louis did have a point. Harry nodded. He got his gun out, Louis doing the same. He opened the door again and jumped it. Louis was right; he was a good shooter. Two of the men, their helmets taken off after they thought they had left, went down with holes in their heads, one of them luckily being the man who was holding Niall.

Niall ran and hid behind Harry. He was a coward.

Harry grabbed one of the guys, too surprised to realise what was happening, and shoved his gun into his mouth. He'd need a shower after, the amount of blood that splattered over his face. He didn't trust his aim with the last one, who was across the room, so in an act of desperation he threw the gun to Louis.

Louis, Harry thought, was an angel sent from God. Amazing catching skills, amazing reaction time, amazing aim. The last man went down, and they were left with Zayn.

Louis pointed his gun at Zayn, eyes glaring at him. Zayn was shell-shocked. His mouth was open and his eyes wide, his hands placed on his head in surrender.

Harry turned around to see Niall. He was fine. He smiled at his friend, who quickly wrapped his arms around him.

"God, Harry, I was so scared," he whispered into Harry's shirt. Harry held onto his friend.

"It's okay, Niall. Let's just get home, okay?" Harry led Niall to the door. Before they left, be turned around to face Louis. "Just shoot him, Lou. He deserves it."

Harry wasn't too sure what possesses Louis to put the into his pants and walk backwards slowly. Harry could tell he was glaring at Zayn. "You owe me, Zayn. You're in debt to me, now." He then turned around and walked past Harry and Niall.

Harry stood still for a moment, but then Niall started to move. "Come on, Harry."

Harry nodded. They better go. He didn't want anything bad to happe-

Niall fell forward, a gaspy cry falling from his lips. Harry saw the flash of metal and heard the sound. He saw the dagger embedded in Niall's back. Harry turned around to look at Zayn only to find the bedroom window open and Zayn missing.

Louis ran back and knelt next to Niall. Harry dropped to his knees. He was in shock.

Louis held Niall's head on his knee, tears in his eyes. Harry could hear Niall's gaspy, shallow breaths, the coughing and spewing and he tried to breath. The dagger was through his ribs and had probably punctured his left lung.

"Harry, what do we do?" Louis screamed, too confused to think himself. Harry shook his head. He didn't know. His best friend was drowning in his own blood, and he couldn't do anything to help.

He could tell that Louis wanted to slap him. Harry lent against the wall, staring at Niall's dying body. He wasn't getting help, he wasn't doing anything.

"Harry!"

Niall was coughing up blood all over Louis' knees, his remaining lung slowly filling up with his own blood. Harry could hear the running feat of more of Zayn's men, coming to kill them. Again, Harry thought quickly, making a decision.

He moved to kneel next to Niall. He knew he wasn't going to survive. He gave Louis a quick look before whispering, "Run. I'll meet you at the car."

Louis got up and started to jog, looking back over his shoulder as Harry pulled the dagger out of Niall's back.

"I'm sorry, my friend," Harry whispered, and with that Niall was dead, blood spilling from his split throat, a gaspy last breath haunting Harry's memory forever.

Harry caught up to Louis quicker than he expected, Louis hobbling a little, probably from a twisted ankle. They were both covered in blood, probably looking like zombies. They saw the corridor that lead to the front door.

Shadows on the wall. Zayn's men were coming that way.

They turned around to run back, but more shadows on that wall. They were cornered.

Louis pulled Harry into the closest room, the cleaning cupboard. There wasn't a lock on the door, so Louis and Harry hid in silence, pressed up against a mop and dusters. Louis pressed his nose into Harry's neck, tears streaming down his face.

"We're gonna die, aren't we, Harry," Louis whispered. Harry couldn't respond. No, he couldn't die. He was not going to let Zayn take Louis away and kill him. He was not going to let Zayn kill him. Zayn didn't deserve the pleasure of their deaths on his hands.

Harry held Louis closer, pressing his head closer to his chest, another arm holding his close around the waist. He closed his eyes, burying his nose into Louis' hair. His tears dripped down onto Louis' head, each one bringing more of the realisation to them.

Louis reached behind himself and got hold of something. Harry was wondering what until he felt Louis pull his head down until their temples were in line. He heard the sound of his gun being cocked.

"Harry," he whispered.

"Louis."

"I love you."

"I love you more."

"I love you most."

\---

The door opened quickly, and Harry turned to look. He recognised that face. It was moonlit last time he saw it, surrounded by broken glass scattered around the floor. It was calm, worried for a second when he saw the gun, but then he smiled sweetly before closing the door.

Louis lowered the gun and looked at Harry. From outside they could hear what was said.

"They're not in here."

"Then keep checking, Liam."

Harry smiled at Louis.

Liam. He'd have to remember the name of that angel.

\---

It was hours before they thought it was safe to leave. The police had come after the landlord had called after the sound of gunshots, and nobody had checked the cleaning cupboard. They escaped through a window and got to Harry's car. There was a coroners van parked outside the front of The Ferry Inn, a body being loaded in. Harry could help but think that the body was Niall's. Niall had no family left, and his only friend was Harry. Niall would be buried in a cheap council graveyard in Scotland, not in Ireland like he had wanted in his will.

Louis sighed and lent back in his seat. "We should go Harry. Someone's gonna notice that we're covered in blood."

Harry nodded, turning the key and starting the car. He drove away from The Ferry Inn, away from his friend, and away from the blood.

"What now?" Louis asked, gazing out of the window at the sea.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know."

"Zayn's probably wanting out blood."

"I guess he'll have to catch us first."

Louis smirked. "And I guess we'll keep running."

"Where should we go then, David Jones?"

"I don't know, Niall Horan-" Louis paused, realising that he could of hurt Harry.

"Yes, I'm Niall Horan. I was named after a great man."

"A very great man indeed."

Harry grinned. "I think we should go to Australia."

"By car? I think we should go to France."

"France?"

"Ironically..."

Harry laughed, and Louis joined in.

"Harry."

"Louis."

"I love you."

"I love you more."

"I love you most."

Harry smiled. "And after France, Mr Jones, where should we go then."

"To Narnia."

"We'll keep running."

"And we'll never stop."

"Zayn may catch us and torture us."

"He may separate us."

"He may kill us."

"But we'll never stop running."

"Never stop trying to escape."

Harry held his hand out to Louis, who intertwined his fingers.

"Ever."

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I hope you liked it! Don’t forget to send in your prompts! Love forever! x


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